Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Yay! I am so, so, so excited that today is finally here. It feels like I've been waiting for Addicted tolink to all the places you can get it :)
release ever since I wrote Ruined, LOL. Here's a

Anyway, in honor of Addicted's release, I'm putting up an exclusive snippet. And for those of you who can't get enough Ethan-- never fear. This isn't the last you'll see of him and Chloe ... I can't give details yet, but they'll definitely be around in the future!

Thanks so much for helping me celebrate release day! And there are two great giveaways going on right now to help celebrate Addicted's release-- one from my publisher and one from me-- so make sure you check those out as well!

Happy Reading!

BlurbEthan Frost returns in the breathtaking conclusion to New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Tracy Wolff’s seductive novel Ruined—perfect for fans of Release Me and Bared to You.As Chloe Girard discovers, there’s love . . . and then there’s addiction.

Ethan Frost is everything a woman could want in a man. He’s rich,
gorgeous, powerful, one of the most eligible bachelors in the world.

But that’s not why I’m with him.

I love Ethan for all the things no one else gets to see: his innate
kindness, his reckless spontaneity, his unwavering determination to use
his brilliance for good. I love the way he looks at me, the way he
touches me. The way he makes me forget the wreckage of my past and the
twisted fear that still lives inside me.

Excerpt:

“So, I guess I’m heading back upstairs,” Tori says
after a minute. “Unless you need me for something?”

“No. I’m good. Thanks, Tor.”

“No problem. Knock him dead, Chlo.”

“I’m not even going to see him today,” I protest.

She smiles wryly. “Of course you’re not.”

“I’m not.” I can’t. Just the thought of seeing
Ethan makes me shaky. I may not be angry at him, but that’s a far cry from wanting
to see him. And I don’t. I really don’t. Not now, when all I can see is Brandon’s
mocking grin. When all I can hear is him calling Ethan his brother. His brother.

Maybe it’s cowardly, maybe it’s self-preservation.
To be honest, I don’t really care. All I want to do is get through the day
without any more casualties.

Surely that’s not too much to ask.

Except obviously, it is. Because as I move to set
my briefcase on the passenger seat, I see a thick, cream envelope on the
passenger side floorboard. It’s facedown, but I don’t need to see the Frost
Industries return address to recognize Ethan’s stationery. He’s sent me so many
letters and packages over the last few weeks—all on or accompanied by official
company letterhead—that I’m pretty sure I’d recognize it in my sleep.

For a second, I’m tempted to take the coward’s way
out. To leave the envelope where it lies and pretend I never saw it.

Except I’ve never been a coward. And though there’s
a part of me that thinks there’s no excuse Ethan can make, no story he can
tell, that will make what happened yesterday okay, there’s another part of me
that wants him to try. That wants to see what he has to say.

It’s a double-edged sword, one I’m afraid I don’t
have the skill—or the heart—to keep balanced on. And yet, even knowing how
dangerous it is to my own mental health, I reach for the envelope.

For long seconds, I just hold it in my hands,
watching it like I expect it to spontaneously combust. When it doesn’t, I
eventually lift it to my nose and breathe in the elusive, barely there scent of
it.

Like rain on a sunny, summer day.

Like blueberries and warm, sweet maple syrup.

It smells like Ethan and the truth of that nearly
brings me to my knees.

Again, I almost set the envelope aside unopened. Again,
I think about shredding it, burning it, throwing it away whole. About doing
anything and everything to it but the one thing Ethan intended—opening it.

And yet, knowing Ethan wrote whatever is in there
exclusively for me, makes it impossible for me to do anything but run my
fingertips along the envelope seams in an effort to pry it open.

Eventually I get it open and the first thing that
falls out is a picture of the two of us.

Just looking at it gets the tears burning behind
my eyesall over again, but I clear my throat, blink several times. I’ve
cried too much in the last twenty-four hours and I’m not going to do it
anymore. Not now. Not today.

It’s hard though, very hard, because I remember
the day this picture was taken. It was right at the beginning, right after
Ethan and I first met. It was a charity event on the beach benefiting the
environment and I’d been trying, hopelessly I might add, to build a sand castle.
Ethan had come around and—much to my chagrin—sat down next to me. Within half
an hour, we’d built
one of the most impressive sand castles on the beach. When one of the judges
came by, she’d given us a perfect score and that’s the moment this picture had
been taken, Ethan’s head and mine tilted backward with laughter as we stand
over our sand castle and the tide slowly rolls in.

It had been a good night, one of the first nights
we spent time together. I had triedso hard to keep Ethan at arm’s length, but I
know that this is one of those times that I can point to and say that this
place, this moment, is when I began to really fall for Ethan.

Though I know I should probably throw the picture
away, I shove it in my purse instead. Then I pull out the only other thing in
the envelope, a folded letter that seems to actually be burning my fingertips.

For long seconds, I just sit there with the letter
in my hands, eyes squeezed shut and body shaking. Part of me is dying to open
it, dying to know what Ethan has to say. But another part of me is terrified of
what I’ll find, terrified of what his words will do to me. I’m barely hanging
on as it is. The slightest thing—good or bad—might very well send me over the
edge.

In the end, though, I don’t have a choice. Knowing
what Ethan wrote is a compulsion within me, one I have no shot at not obeying. With
a deep breath, I unfold the paper, smooth my fingers over the creases. And then
I start to read.

Friday, July 11, 2014

Hi Guys! I know I've been MIA lately, but trying to write as many books as I have in the last few Amazon or Barnes and Noble, in case you're interested. Anyway, I'm so excited and can't wait to hear what you think about Ethan and Chloe :) To celebrate, I'll be posting a few exclusive excerpts that you will only be able to find here. Oh, and if you've been waiting to give Ruined a try, now is the time! It's $1.99 on Amazon and Barnes and Noble right now.
months has been keeping me crazy busy. But I'll be around the next couple of weeks, I promise, because Addicted is coming out on Tuesday, July 15th! You can pre-order it right now at

Hope you enjoy!!!

BlurbEthan Frost returns in the breathtaking conclusion to New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Tracy Wolff’s seductive novel Ruined—perfect for fans of Release Me and Bared to You.As Chloe Girard discovers, there’s love . . . and then there’s addiction.

Ethan Frost is everything a woman could want in a man. He’s rich,
gorgeous, powerful, one of the most eligible bachelors in the world.

But that’s not why I’m with him.

I love Ethan for all the things no one else gets to see: his innate
kindness, his reckless spontaneity, his unwavering determination to use
his brilliance for good. I love the way he looks at me, the way he
touches me. The way he makes me forget the wreckage of my past and the
twisted fear that still lives inside me.

But sometimes it
terrifies me how much I crave him, how much I need him just to breathe. I
always thought it would be my past that ruined us, but there’s a
darkness in Ethan I never dreamed existed. Can we survive as his secrets
surface—threatening to unravel us both?

Excerpt:

“What is that?” I demand, staring at the huge
box Ethan is carting into my apartment thefollowing Saturday morning. He’s here early
because we’re supposed to be going to the VA hospital today to visit some of
the soldiers, and then on to a museum or two at Balboa Park. I thought we’d
leave right after he got here, but by the look of that box, now I’m not so
sure.

“It’s a Vitamix,” he says with a grin, all
blinding white teeth and innocent blue eyes. “I noticed when I was here the
other day that yours had gone MIA.”

“MIA. I suppose that’s one way to put it,” Tori
calls from her spot on the couch.

“Stop!” I hiss at her behind Ethan’s back, but he
turns at the last minute and catches me glaring at her with narrowed eyes.

“No reason,” I tell him, pressing a kiss to his
cheek as
he plops the box down on the counter, then does the same with the three Whole Foods bags he has dangling
from his wrists. “Tori’s just super clumsy, so she has an obsession with
insuring everything.”

My roommate chokes on her orange juice. “Yeah,
that’s what did the Vitamix in. My clumsiness. Not, say, your prowess with a
hammer.”

Ethan glances at me in amusement. “Do I even want
to know what happened to that poor blender?”

I think about it for a second, then shake my head.
“No, probably not.”

“That’s what I figured.”

He starts unpacking the groceries, and it’s my
turn to be amused as he piles fruit, vegetables and a couple nice cheeses on
the counter.

I roll my eyes. “He’s not going to be buying us
any more groceries, Tori.”

“Why not? It makes him feel good and it saves us
the trouble of going to the store and having to cart a bunch of bags up to the
apartment. I say it’s a win-win situation for everyone.”

“You would.”

“So, who wants a smoothie?” Ethan asks, unpacking
the new blender and rinsing it out in the sink as Tori wanders back to her spot on the couch.

“Are we seriously going to do this again?” I ask
him, wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing kisses between his shoulder
blades.

“Do what?” he asks innocently, as if he doesn’t
know.

“Fight about this totally extravagant gift that
you insist on giving me a second time.”

“Tori, please explain to your roommate that a
blender is not an extravagant gift. It’s actually quite practical—a good
breakfast is very important.”

“I can have a good breakfast without making it in
a very extravagant, four hundred dollar blender!” I tell him, completely
exasperated.

“Again. Not extravagant, Chloe. A car is an
extravagant gift. A trip to Paris is an extravagant gift. A—”

“Forty thousand dollar platinum and diamond belly chain
from Tiffany’s is an extravagant gift,” Tori continues for him. “But not a
blender, Chloe. Geez, you need to chill out.”

But the blender is now the least of my worries. “Forty
thousand dollars?” I squawk, my hands going to the jewelry I haven’t taken off
since the night we had our talk. “My belly chain cost forty thousand dollars?”

Ethan shoots my roommate a dirty look. “Thanks a
lot, Tori.”

She shrugs, then takes a bite of her apple. “At
least she’s not bitching about the blender anymore. Perspective, man. Perspective.”